


The Story Nobody Tells

by Onceuponadisneypotter



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: F/M, I wrote this instead of working on my thesis, Im HERE for shy & socially inept Hades, Odysseus is too stubborn to die, Somewhat, and a good-guy-zeus, and she gets what she wants, at least, i have to say the characterisation is slightly based on Sigeel's punderworld, in this case it's that handsome god that pops up in the middle of her blooming meadow, poor hades with his low self esteem, poor persephone having to deal with these men, those poor farmers having to do two harvests each year, we all know that Lady Kore is super powerful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:53:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23950372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onceuponadisneypotter/pseuds/Onceuponadisneypotter
Summary: In which Persephone choses for herself, Hades does not want to lose his hands and Zeus believes it all to be some marvellous prank that surely will entertain generations to come.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	The Story Nobody Tells

**Author's Note:**

> Based on hawk-and-handsaw's prompt, linked in the first word of this fic.

[There were](https://onceuponadisneypotter.tumblr.com/post/616938392437063680/lectorel-justnuts) surprisingly little human-shaped places to enter the underworld. Or god-shaped places, for that matter. You could not have anyone accidentally stumbling into the underworld before their time, after all. Sure, there were plenty of places for _souls_ to enter, but physical bodies? Not so much.

So Hades was happy that the need to visit the world of the living popped up only once every century or so. He preferred to stay down below, where the souls would find them on their own accord. Occasionally, however, a particularly adventurous or stubborn soul refused to leave their assigned body, and it was up to Hades to go through one of the very few portals and make sure that those whose string did no longer fit in the tapestry of life would move on. Which, on many occasions, took quite a bit of travelling. And that was not just a frustrating hassle for the god of the Dead himself, but also for the world. Because if he did not hurry, the waiting room would fill, and with a full waiting room no souls could die.

You might think that is a positive, a world where no one dies. However, Hades remembered the days before he took up his position, and the crowded, busy world still haunted his nightmares. It was, then, no surprise that Hades, chasing after the particularly stubborn soul of Odysseus, who, after living through so many adventures, simply _refused_ to die calmly in his sleep, was in a hurry to get his job done. Luckily, Ithaca was located relatively close to one of the few doors leading in and out of the underworld, so his trip, he foolishly thought, should not take too long. Filled with this misplaced sense of hubris – he was a god, how could _he,_ of all creatures, not see coming what would happen next? – he allowed himself to take a minute to let his eyes get used to the bright sunlight before properly stepping into the blooming meadow. Roses, marigolds, buttercups, sunflowers, a whole bright chaotic array of flowers and scents greeted him as he looked around. He blinked once, twice, and, with one brief look up at the sky to orientate himself, started his way towards Ithaca.

* * 

Persephone was in trouble. Oh, but this is not the story you are familiar with. No, she was not in trouble because a certain handsome god of the Dead exited his underworld and laid his eyes on her, falling instantly in love with her. Nor was she in trouble because she disobeyed her mother, or because she sought out the underworld for herself.

No, in this tale, and who knows, it might be the _true_ one, Persephone was in trouble because she could not decide which flower she liked best. Of course, as the goddess of spring she should not _have_ a favourite, but that did not take away the fact that she needed to decide which flowers the statue the Athenians were building for her should hold.

Sunflowers, maybe? Roses? Or a nice bouquet of pretty marigolds? She sat on a hilltop overseeing a beautiful meadow who, at her command, bloomed brighter and brighter with each new flower she thought of. Persephone had just decided that sunflowers simply would not do – too tall and haughty – when she spotted something moving through her field. The _audacity._

Every mortal would know that a field with this much biodiversity could not be natural and was in the possession of Lady Kore herself. Every mortal, or, well, every _sane_ mortal, would turn and flee at the sight of it. And also at the barrier of thorns she had erected so she would be able to think in peace, undisturbed. And so, Persephone got herself into much more trouble than she was before, for Persephone was curious. She was the goddess of spring, after all, and why else do flower buds lift their heads but because they are curious to see the world around them? So, Persephone got up from the ground and started to investigate.

* * 

One of the many perks of being a god is that you are able to do everything so much quicker than those puny, fragile mortals. If one had left a mortal in charge of the underworld, souls from 3000 BC would still not have been processed. So Hades’ eyes adjusted to the light quickly, and his footsteps moved him faster than any human ever could. And so, with his heart filled with that damned, cursed _hubris_ , Hades left the blooming meadow, manoeuvred around the strange wall of thorns and continued his journey, not noticing the soft footsteps following closely behind.

Now, Hades could not fully be blamed for this ignorance, as Lady Kore did not _walk_ per se. It was more like she was being carried by whichever plant happened to be beneath her feet. So Hades, thinking himself alone, started practising his speech. He had never been a good public speaker; it was one of the many reasons he had ended up with his job anyways. Poseidon, he could speak marvellously, which had easily earned him the oceans he had pleaded for. Hades tended to keep to himself, and although he was good at one-on-one conversations with souls about their lives, conversing with living human beings, particularly kings who were never alone, was not his strong suit.

And since he had heard his brothers’ stories of Odysseus’ annoying wit, he was positive it would be wise to practice. He could not return with empty hands, after all. Imagine the _shame_ of a stuttering god of the Dead. His entire imago would be ruined. No, nothing like that could ever happen. So, Hades practised, whilst Persephone watched.

* * 

The dark man, she quickly realised, was no foolish moral. No mortal at _all,_ in fact. She had often heard her mother speak of the famous god of souls, and her uncles, too, had occasionally referenced him. She knew many of her flowers were strewn on graves, yet she had never seen the notorious Hades himself.

Now that she did, however, there was no doubt who it could be. Not that all the descriptions of him were necessarily correct, but he was announcing it to himself in some sort of practised speech. It was quite adorable, really, as the mighty, feared god stumbled upon his words, restarted, rephrased, repeated his appeal to Odysseus to finally, as the humans so marvellously put it, kick the bucket. Of course, the handsome man with raven-black hair put it differently, but the essence was the same. It was time for Odysseus to die.

Not that Persephone minded, she was thoroughly sick of the man. He insisted on having hundreds of bouquets given to his wife each day to reward her for her undying loyalty. Sure, a romantic gesture, but Persephone would much prefer it if he instead just created a beautiful garden for her, rather than murdering so many of her creations. She and her mother had worked together to create some pretty devastating famines in his lands, but nothing seemed to help. Death, in this case, would be a good solution. With the added bonus that she could now take a proper look at the man who would get that job done.

He was handsome, nobody had told her that. His skin looked soft and well-cared for, his hands covered in ink rather than callus, like the rough farmers in the fields, and his eyes… She did not manage to get a proper look at them, but the little bit she saw revealed they were filled with kindness. His voice was warm and deep and his manners respectful. And, although she would never speak those words out loud, Lady Kore believed he looked much more powerful than the mighty Zeus himself.

* * 

He reached Ithaca quicker than he expected, and, by some measure of luck or destiny he had to remind himself to thank the Fates later, found the king alone. Hades had listened to his brothers when they had warned him not to let the old man talk too much, and, although it took a bit of a fight, Hades got what he needed. With a small cut from his blade, always tied against his hip in the folds of his robe, Odysseus’ string in the tapestry of life was cut through and tied in a neat knot. Within the hour his wife would stumble across his body, lifeless but at peace. Sure, the country would mourn and weep, but a new generation would take the great king’s place, and tales of his adventures, Hades was sure, would live forever. With his job over and done, he turned around to return to the beautiful blooming meadow, to descend once more into the darkness he had come from. The waiting room would be half-full right now, and he would have to hurry to make it back and catch up on lost work.

* * 

Even before Hades crossed the border into Ithaca, Persephone had made her decision. It was not a hard one to make, really, if you considered all the facts. She had seen children play in the fields, praising her beautiful flowers. She had seen lovers court each other with her gifts, and they, too, would _play_ in her fields, though in a slightly different manner. Persephone had attended weddings, spoken to midwives, created herbs to soothe the pains of childbirth and heal the baby’s stomach aches. She had felt the love humans could feel, seen the beauty in a family, and wanted one for herself.

This was not a spur-of-the-moment decision, let that be known, Lady Kore is too mighty, too wise, too powerful to let herself be ruled by passion. Are you surprised that a goddess of flowers is powerful? You should not be. Have you ever watched a tender flower break through the frozen winter ground and bloomed? Do you not realise how much power that takes? Poseidon and all his seas, or Zeus and all his thunder could not stand against the goddess of spring if she truly made up her mind. And that she had. She would have Hades as her husband, and none other would do.

By the time Hades had reached Odysseus, therefore, Persephone, refusing to step foot in Ithaca, had returned to the meadow where she had sat down that morning, a mission that paled in comparison to the plan she enacted now. It took her little time to find the hole the god of souls had sprung from, and with a simple wave of her hand it was covered completely in a wall of ivy, a thorny bush of roses, an age-old rhododendron. She blinked, and the entrance had completely disappeared from view, the meadow now looking like any other, tall grass swaying in the wind and a beautiful rose tree in the middle. All that was left for her to do now was wait.

* * 

The meadow, when Hades returned, looked remarkably different. No thorny border, no cacophony of flowers, nothing that signalled that this meadow was, in fact, the one he had come out of. He almost started to doubt his own navigation, his ability to keep track of time, but his common sense told him that no, the way home was most definitely here and no, he certainly had not spent longer on his trip than he had anticipated. So far, anyway. _Damned hubris._

He stepped forward, following the call of the darkness pulling him towards a blooming rhododendron in the middle of the field. But the entrance to his world was nowhere to be found. Or well, he knew it was underneath the large tree, he could feel that much, but it was not like he could reach it. Not only because a tree seemed to cover it, but also because, the moment he came close to the looming thing, numerous kinds of ivy and other plants had sprung up and created, with lack of a better word, a cage around him. And Hades, with lack of a better word, was perplexed.

‘Wha-’

‘Hello!’

A friendly voice greeted him before he could voice his confusion. Hades turned, gaped, blinked, stared, barely remembered to close his mouth before blinking again. There, in front of him, stood the most beautiful woman he had ever encountered. Of course, this was something he could never voice aloud, for he _had_ met Aphrodite after all, and he had personally seen the souls that had managed to make her envious.

‘I believe we have never formally met. Lady Kore, though you can call me Persephone,’ the maiden spoke. Her voice was beautiful, melodious, both making him want to fall to his knees and jump up to dance. He did not need to consult Eros for this situation, even though the feelings he had were wholly unfamiliar. Hades was pretty sure he had just fallen head-over-heels in love.

* * 

‘H-Hades,’ the god in front of her stuttered. ‘I- God of the underworld, located-’ he vaguely gestured towards the old tree.

‘I know. I saw you coming from there.’

If gods could blush, Persephone pondered, she was pretty sure the man in front of her would have been bright red. He was, no doubt, remembering how he had practised his speech out loud.

‘Oh. So. Okay. Eh.’ His eyes darted from her, to the rhododendron and back. ‘Eh, your doing, I presume?’ She nodded. ‘Not that it isn’t beautiful, it’s stunning, gorgeous, beautiful- ehm, I mean –’ She almost felt like moving the tree, allowing him to return to his world, just to free him of his misery, but instead she smiled innocently, waiting for him to finish his speech. ‘I mean, I have to return. You know. Souls. Waiting room. We cannot have the people stop dying, that would be disastrous.’

'It would be, indeed. But first, I need something from you.’

* * 

Hades could feel himself getting antsier and antsier. If he was correct, and he almost always was, the waiting room would be filled in about – yes. A firm tug, as if someone pulled a string tied to his ribs, confirmed his suspicions. From now on, no creature on earth would die until he got back home. It would not take long for the gods to notice, he had told Thanatos where he was headed, a simple precaution, and the god of Death would signal Zeus any moment now. And the god of thunder, unlike popular belief, was actually quite proficient in getting stuff done. Hades could not help but hope that ‘getting stuff done’ would not include any harm to the wonderful young maiden in front of him.

‘I have nothing to offer you, Lady Kore,’

‘Persephone.’

‘Lady Persephone,’ he continued. ‘I cannot fully return your loved one from the dead, once the soul leaves its body it can never fully return.’

‘I am not looking to undo death or to turn back the clock. I am a god like you, and know it will never end well.’

‘Then I do not understand. What is there for me to give?’

‘Your hand.’

Hades looked down at his hands, in confusion. They were soft but strong and covered in spots of ink. He had used them to comfort and guide many souls, they could touch the water of all the rivers in the underworld without damage, but so could the hands of any god.

‘But I need those?’ he asked, looking up at his jailor again. He wished that the laughing sound his words evoked would never stop, for it was the most delightful noise he had ever heard. But, as the god of the Dead he, of all people, knew nothing was permanent.

* * 

Persephone closed her eyes just in time to shield herself from the large flash, followed quickly by loud thunder, falling from the sky. Ah, Zeus had arrived, just in time, too. A booming voice thundered – ha – over any thoughts that could have followed.

‘HEAR YE FOOLISH MORTAL, YE WHO HAS ENTRAPPED MY BROTH- Persephone?’

Oh, what she would give to have a statue of the big god of thunder’s face right now. Maybe she would create one herself, out of wood. It was most certainly a sight to behold. For all his powers, he had never mastered the poker face.

‘Persephone, what have you done to Hades? Why is he all covered in leaves? Why are you here in the first place?’

The latter was not aimed at her, but spoken, in total confusion, at the man she had trapped above ground. ‘Are you not supposed to be doing whatever it is you do?’

‘Odysseus refused to die, brother, we talked about it yesterday.’

‘Aha! Did you succeed? Is the fool finally dead? Poseidon promised a party once the fool finally dies, you should come!’

Persephone gently coughed.

‘Oh. Yes, Pessy, free the man, would you? He had to get back to work, people have stopped dying, nasty stuff. There is a battle going on near Sparta which is simply starting to turn weird. People running around with swords sticking out of them, etcetera.’

Persephone rolled her eyes. ‘Do _not_ call me “Pessy”. And I will not free him until he has given me what I want.’

‘Oh Pespes,’

‘That’s even worse.’

‘What could he possibly give you? You know as well as any god that nobody can truly return from the –’

‘I do _not_ want anyone returned from the dead!’ She was getting pretty fed up with this whole situation now. It was never meant to last this long. She might not have existed in the times that humans were immortal, but if her mother’s tales were anything to go by it was, indeed, not a pretty situation. ‘I want his hand!’

* * 

Zeus looked incredulously at the scene in front of him. When Thanatos had told him that Hades had not returned, he was expecting a simple show with some impressive lightning would make any foolish mortal turn back on their plans of barring his brother from returning to his job. He had not expected to be faced with a slowly-getting-more-and-more-annoyed goddess of spring, asking for Hades’ – hands?

‘But he needs those!’

‘Exactly!’ His brother agreed with a sigh of relief whilst Persephone turned around to hit her head on a pomegranate tree that did not exist a second ago.

‘Men,’ Zeus was sure he could hear her grumble, ‘mother was right when she told me they are all idiots.’

‘Hey!’ the two gods protested, simultaneously.

‘Why do you want his hands? Come on KorKor,’

‘Again, _worse._ ’

‘You have your own perfectly functioning hands! If you need people to help you, there are more than enough priestesses at your command.’

‘I want his hand _in marriage_!’

* * 

If you want to know how to silence two gods, ask Persephone, because she just managed to do it. Like two codfish – she had, on multiple occasions, visited the sea to help Poseidon out with the underwater plant life – the two gaped at her, absolutely stunned.

‘Y- You want to marry me?’ The voice was soft, unsure. At that moment, Zeus burst out in laughter.

‘Good one PercyKorey, you had me there for a second. Marry Hades, lovely prank. See to it that you free him, okay? I _have_ to tell Poseidon Odysseus is dead. I will see you later.’ And with a flash, he was gone.

‘Oh. A prank. Ha, a good one mighty Lady Kore. If you would be so kind as to free me now, I have to return to my job.’ The soft voice behind her spoke. With a sigh, Persephone picked one of the fruits from the tree she had just created, carefully opening it and eating one of the pits. ‘Pl-’ the voice behind her broke. ‘Please, Lady Kore.’

* * 

A prank. Of course, it was a prank. Why would a beautiful maiden, the goddess of spring, a symbol of life itself, ever want to marry him? He despised himself for even entertaining, even though it had been for just a moment, the notion that she was serious.

‘Pl-’ his voice broke. Another thing to berate himself for, for the rest of eternity. ‘Please, Lady Kore. I have to return to my work. It was a wonderful joke, I am sure the stories will survive for decades to come. But forms have to be signed, and those poor souls are all lost and alone and confused –’ Hades ran out of words as he stared at the back of the beautiful goddess who, through it all, still held him captive.

She turned around and threw something at him. In a reflex, he caught it, one half of a pomegranate.

‘I am sorry,’ she said, and, if it were possible, Hades’ heart broke into even more pieces than it already had. ‘That your brother is such an idiot.’

Hades chocked. ‘What?’

‘It is no prank. I _do_ want to marry you.’ He did not believe it.

‘Lady Kore, do not play with me so. Why would you ever want to marry me? I spend my days surrounded by darkness and death, whilst you –’ he sighed. There was no need to speak about the difference any more, it was as clear as night and day. Life and death. 

* * 

Persephone looked at the man in front of her, softly picking at the pomegranate’s seeds.

‘You are kind. I heard your speech to Odysseus, I have heard the other gods speak of him, too. He has angered me, he has angered my mother, he has even angered Hestia. Yet, your words to him were kind. Patient. Soft. You care. Look at you, wanting to return to your work, to care for those who have left this life behind. You work harder than any other god in our pantheon and beyond. You walk determined, you look wise, your eyes are filled with compassion. You are beautiful, and I can imagine none to be a better husband than you.’

She could see the conflict on Hades’ face. She knew he wanted to smile, cry, frown, but instead he spoke softly.

‘I cannot marry you. I cannot live here, above the earth, for the world will fill too quickly. And you cannot live with me in the underworld, where no sun penetrates the dark. You would be utterly miserable.’

‘How about the Elysian fields?’

‘The worlds of the dead are only visible to the dead, not even a god’s eye can see them. I simply tell them where to go, and they, when they are ready, disappear into the hall they were assigned to. I never see them again. I cannot marry you. I am sorry.’

‘But do you _want_ to?’ She had to know. She could not live without knowing the truth, without knowing for sure what she already suspected.

‘More than anything.’

* * 

It is a little-known fact that gods can not lie. Sure, they can twist the truth, or lie by omission, but to tell an outright lie? That power is one only humans will ever have. So every word Hades had said was true. He desperately, passionately, hopelessly wanted to marry the beautiful, smart, cunning, powerful, wonderful woman in front of him. But he also knew it would make both of them utterly miserable. He picked at the beautiful red fruit in his hand, carefully taking out each seed, one by one. He knew he could not eat them; he knew the rules. But he could not stomach looking up at Persephone, so he focussed on the only task he possibly could fulfil. Slowly, deliberately, carefully picking the seeds, making sure not to stain his robes. One. Two. Four. Six.

‘I cannot stay in your world forever, and you cannot stay forever in mine. That much is true,’ the goddess admitted.

‘Then free me. Let me go.’ He felt the plants’ grip weaken, loosen, disappear. ‘And move your rhododendron.’ He dropped the pomegranate.

‘No.’

* * 

‘No.’ She could not let him leave, not after what he had just admitted. ‘There has to be a way.’ She looked at him, desperately trying to think of _something, somehow_.

‘There is none. But I will take these six seeds to remember you by. They will not survive, they will dry and mould and turn to dust, but I will keep them, as a remembrance. Let me go, Lady Kore.’ Her eye fell on the six shining seeds in Hades’ hands and she gasped.

‘Six! Six seeds! Six months! Eat them.’

‘What? I cannot. I will be forced to stay here for-’ 'Six months! Six months here, six months there. Grass will grow, flowers will bloom, one of the harvests can continue. And people, people can still die. For six months, people can still die!'

The man looked at her with an incredulous face.

‘I can live with you for six months, you can live here for just as long. Threads that need to end can still be knotted whilst you are here, and the world can rest when I am with you. The farmers think I do not hear, but they speak too close to the ears of corn for me to ignore their call. They wish for rest, for calm. For time to spend with their family. They work all year long, when one harvest is finished the next begins. They are in the fields all they, unable to see their children grow up until the boys are strong enough to help their fathers, ones they barely recognise. I will give them rest, you will give them time.’

And, after one long look into her eyes, Hades pushed his hand to his mouth, chewed once, and swallowed.

* * 

This is not where the story ends, of course. But I will not bore you with tales of Zeus’ rage, of Artemis’ strife, of Demeter’s false accusations. You have, undoubtedly, heard them all before. And what is the use of telling them again, for the damage had already been done. Hades had eaten six pomegranate seeds, so he was doomed to walk the sunny earth for six months a year, the rules demanded it so.

Nor will I regale you with the tale of Persephone and Hades’ wedding, where more drunk gods gathered than anyone had ever before seen, nor the stories of the happy couple’s wedding night, or the many other nights the two spent in bliss.

If you truly care to know what is not yours to know - for the matters of the gods are private, after all - look into the eyes of the one who has stolen your heart. Feel their touch on your skin, their lips on your lips. Hear their laugh, their stumbling words, braid their long hair, wash the ink from their soft hands and you will not have to ask me to tell you of the love between the goddess of spring and the god of souls, for you have tasted the pomegranate seeds yourself, and know.

* * 


End file.
